


After

by mautadite



Category: Luther (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An early retirement, quiet evenings, skin on skin. It's enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

**Author's Note:**

> AU after series 2, let's say. Not that it matters, I suppose; this is mostly porn. I've wanted to write this ship for ten million years.
> 
> This contains: light dom/sub, praise kink and uh a bit of size difference kink. coughs up a lung.

Justin’s been in the shower for a while now, but he keeps his ears peeled, and hears the exact moment the chime goes off at the door. He pops his head out.

“It’s open, come in!”

There’s the click of the door opening and closing, and that’s the last he hears of John for a while. For a big man, he moves about very quietly, like a panther or lion or any other hunter. It’s not been too long since they started this thing, but he’s already quite familiar with Justin’s flat.

Justin turns up the water to full blast and concentrates on getting the last of the suds out of his hair. The hot water beats at him pleasantly. They don’t have anything huge planned for the evening, just a quiet night in with telly, dinner, and each other. It’s always lazy afternoons and quiet nights for them.

He had been worried before, about what would become of Luther once he quit the police force. The job had been his boss’ life for so long, his altar and his prayer. It had been hard not to wonder what would be left of him once he left it; what would be left of _them_. A month or so of easy routine and learning each other like the words of a new hymn had given Justin his answer.

Just enough.

He shuts off the water and pulls back the curtain just in time to be aware of the door to the bathroom opening. Justin smiles. John slips in, and leans against the door jamb. He’s rid himself of his coat and shoes, and it thrills Justin, to see him looking so at home in his flat.

“Hello,” he says, not bothering to reach for a towel. John gives his greeting in the form of a slow, crooked smile. He’s hunching his shoulders in that way he does when he’s aware of taking up more space than might be his due.

“The oven went off. You couldn’t hear me, so I popped the lasagne out and left it to cool.”

“Thanks. Didn’t burn, did it?”

John laughs again, and it feels like plates shifting beneath Justin’s feet. His eyes have yet to dip below Justin’s neck, and that somehow only makes him more aware of his nakedness, makes his nipples prickle and gooseflesh crop up all along his thighs.

“No, it’s perfect.”

Justin snorts. “Say that once you’ve tasted it, mate. There’s only so much I can learn from watching reruns of Iron Chef America.”

John seems amused. He looks at Justin with his warm eyes and quirking mouth, and without looking, shuts the door behind him. At once, Justin’s heart goes off like a jackhammer, and his little bathroom suddenly seems a lot littler.

It only takes John one long stride to eat up the space between them. They still aren’t quite touching, but John rectifies that by crooking his finger at Justin gently. 

“Come here.”

Justin is moving before the first syllable is completely formed. There hasn’t existed anything like orders and commands and rank between he and Luther for a little while now, but his body has yet to reconcile the difference in their relationship. He feels like his whole body is vibrating, and suddenly notices how red he is, all along his shoulders and chest and his face too he’s sure, both from the hot water and his blush. This close, he has to crane his neck a little to meet John’s eyes, and he grins sheepishly.

“Not going to make a lobster joke, are you?”

John shakes his head slightly.

“Not going to make a lobster joke.”

He’s still not looking down when he reaches forward, and grabs hold of Justin by one of his nipples. Justin gasps, feeling it get harder as John pinches and rolls it between his fingers. The other hand cups the opposite pectoral muscle and squeezes, nails raking bluntly through the sparse hair there. Justin throws his head back, breathing through his mouth, and isn’t prepared when John tugs him forward by the nipple. He cries out sharply.

“Shh,” John soothes, and takes the bite away, leaning down to kiss him. It’s soft, just a whisper of a touch, and Justin moans, trying to make it more. His nipples ache; John continues to tug sharply at them, then stroke the sting away.

“Boss, please…” he whispers. His cheeks are burning. Sooner or later, he always begs, but seldom this quickly.

John smiles. “I’ve told you that you don’t have to call me that.”

“Yes sir,” Justin says automatically, and John’s smile widens as he kisses him again. A hand abandons his chest to cup his cheek, and he leans in, just a little closer. Their bodies aren’t even touching yet, but Justin feels the pull of it, feels the miniscule stretch of space between them like static. John’s tongue moves maddeningly slow, sweeping across his lips, rubbing against his tongue. He’s very quiet, except for the slick sounds of their mouths moving together, but every now and again he’ll let out a grunt or a deep sigh that paint Justin’s body like praise. When he pulls away, Justin is fairly panting, but his boss is still composed.

“Help me out of these clothes, yeah?” John says calmly, with a last biting pinch at a nipple. Justin rushes to comply. Though he’s quick, his fingers are already shaking and his cock is fully hard, and he wonders if years from now, his boss will still be having the same effect on him.

He hangs up each article of clothing on empty towel hooks. John stays still through most of it, lifting his arms and raising his legs accommodatingly when he needs to. His prick is filling out in his briefs when Justin peels them off, getting down on his knees on the tile to slip them off his feet. He looks up at John, like he’s always looking up at John, and finds him smiling.

“Stay down there,” he says like it’s a suggestion, and Justin shivers with excitement.

He sucks his cock like he likes him to; slowly and thoroughly, lips spreading wide to take him in completely. He feels all the breath leave John in one go, and his hand comes up where it belongs, at the back of Justin’s neck. His grip is firm, and Justin knows that come morning he will find dark bruises where darker fingers had been. The thought makes him warm all over, and he sucks luxuriously at John’s cockhead, leaving little kisses and licks and tasting his pre-come, until John tugs at his hair and he swallows him again. 

John gasps. “That’s good, Justin.”

The words travel down his spine and reach forward to nest in his belly. Justin can’t help it; he pulls off, and gazes up at the other man with a shade of reverence. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

He feels warm fingers running through his damp hair and caressing the nape of his neck before his mouth is tipped open again. Justin braces his hands on solid thighs as he bobs up and down. His erection is leaking, spilling moisture onto the tile, and if he didn’t know better he might try to grasp it. Instead, he lets John fuck his mouth, hearing the sounds that the both of them make and drawing himself taut with desire.

When John pulls him back up by the shoulders, his throat is tickling. He can feel how swollen his lips are, and John aims to make them even more so, claiming his lips with calm and authority.

“What now?” he asks when they part, holding Justin’s chin in his hand to keep him in place. Giving him a choice. Justin chooses as he almost always does.

“Fuck me, please,” he sighs, rubbing lightly against John’s front. He’s still slightly damp from the water, and the chill settles around him like a thin sheet of ice, melting beneath the heat. John leans down, kisses his cheeks, lips, and forehead, and then gives him a little push as he nods. 

Justin grabs a packet of lube from the cabinet, finds the largest stretch of bare wall between the sink and the tub. Shaking slightly, he presses himself against it, shoulders first, hips angled back. He can hear John padding forward lightly as he squeezes the lube onto his fingers and reaches back to press against himself. The first touch makes him jump a little; it’s still cold, but quick to warm with the friction and his skin. Justin breathes steadily, circling around his hole before sinking in. Just one finger at first, then two. He spreads his fingers and stretches himself, biting his bottom lip.

John’s hand on his wrist stops him.

“Let me do that,” he says, and then Justin’s hand falls away, his heart stuttering in his chest as John takes over. One big hand rests against the curve of his arse, and two fingers of the other penetrate him slowly, gently. His fingers are larger and longer than Justin’s, but the discomfort is quick to fade, leaving a pleasant stretch and fullness in its wake. He finds his prostate quickly, presses against it firmly.

“Oh god.” Justin bucks forward, then angles his hips back. “Yeah, please.”

“Right there?”

“Right there sir… fuck, fuck, oh god.”

John preps him slowly and patiently, makes him writhe back against his fingers and beg for it. The hand on his arse curls round to his hip and holds him steady as John adds another finger. They tease at that spot inside him, pushing and pulling away, leaving shocks of warm, intense pleasure. Justin moans, clenching around his fingers, and John leans forward to tell him that that’s very nice, that he likes it, do it for him again. Justin whimpers.

His cock is wetter than ever by the time John slicks up and pushes into him, inch by inch until his hips are cradling Justin’s arse. Fingers scrabbling against the tile, he shudders, lips parted. John holds him firmly by the waist and fucks him slow, going deep with every thrust. It’s a struggle not to moan. Every little movement feels like a kiss: intimate, searching and sweet, and each time John hits his prostrate he quivers with it, legs feeling weak. The tile is cool where he presses his flushed face to it, closing his eyes and pushing back on his boss’ prick.

John’s mouth is hot on his neck.

“That’s right… good boy, Justin.” He reaches round as he says it and rubs Justin’s nipples, even more sensitive now after earlier. John pinches them then presses down and Justin cries out, the feeling going straight to his cock. It’s harder now, red, and screaming for touch. That, he doesn’t get; John keeps his lower body far away from the wall as he fucks into him, gradually upping his speed, whispering little words of praise into Justin’s ear.

“Th-thank you, thank you sir,” he groans, clenching around him and snapping his hips. Justin’s not a small man, but John is big enough to cover him almost completely, drape his torso along Justin’s back. He’s a block of warm strength behind him, his cock moving inside him, sweat-slick hips slapping his arse. “Nnh… fuck me,” Justin cries, feeling boneless and dizzy and so hard.

John grunts, and it’s the only warning Justin gets before he pulls out, and comes all over the small of his back, warm and thick. Justin gasps, suddenly empty, but doesn’t have to wait long before John is spinning him around and pushing him straight up against the wall, stepping almost unbearably close. He circles his cock with a loose grip, thumb smearing his pre-come, and it’s like silk on silk; Justin almost chokes on his relief. Three or four strokes are all it takes before he’s coming, rocking his hips into the warm, callused hand. John stares right into his eyes as he rides it out, stroking his cheek with a finger, and that only makes it more intense. 

“Good boy,” John repeats, and Justin flushes all over, lips trembling.

When he can stand firmly on his own two legs again, he winds his arms around John’s neck and kisses him slow. John slides his hands up and down Justin’s torso, playing his ribs like a mandolin.

“Nice way to start off the evening, that was,” Justin murmurs.

“Mhmm. You’re beginning to spoil me in my old age.”

Justin laughs, and leads him into the shower. There’s still a deal of hot water left, but they linger long enough that there won’t be much afterwards. They take their time, washing each other’s backs and shoulders, leaning in now and again for leisurely snogs. 

“Jenny emailed me,” John mentions, stepping out as Justin rinses off.

“That’s nice. You haven’t had a word from her in a while, have you?”

“Actually, she sent it a week or so ago. I keep forgetting I can check my mail on that phone.”

Justin snorts. “Dinosaur.”

“Shut it, you,” John mock growls, and stretches out a long arm to swat him lightly on the arse. “She managed to find herself a job in York, wanted me to tell you that she owes you a box of takeaway when she comes to visit.”

Smiling, Justin shuts off the water and joins him, and John catches him up on other news as they dry off. John bends his head so his hair can be towelled off, and Justin sees him dressed. Soon, they’re back where they started; John dressed and comfortable, Justin naked and looking at his boss with stars in his eyes.

John checks him on the chin and kisses him quickly.

“You’re very good to me, Justin,” he says, apropos of nothing. Justin is a little taken aback, but he soon grins, cocking a brow.

“Don’t speak too soon. All you’ve got waiting out there for you is cheap wine, cold lasagne and crap telly.”

John’s eyes soften, and he kisses him quickly once more before heading to the door.

“And you. That’s enough for me.”

Wrapping a towel around his hips, Justin follows, and heads to his bedroom. John is in the kitchen, and he pauses to watch him slide the lasagne back into the oven to reheat, and start setting the table. He looks relaxed and at ease, and an incredible lightness seizes Justin’s heart. It’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk about _D/s_ Justin Ripley eh? Ehhh????? (I'm sorry.)
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
